


Flexible

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Anal Sex, Blood, Cuts, Explicit Sexual Content, Hero Worship, M/M, Masochism, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex, Surreal, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 03:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Mitsuhide is a very capable man.





	Flexible

Sometimes Lord Nobunaga’s forcefulness would show itself through a slightly different medium. Efficiency and detachment that could easily be mistaken for care, although Mitsuhide knew better than to confuse the two. Nobunaga-kou was far above mortality, he had no need for care or for worry, he knew that Mitsuhide was his loyal servant, now and forever. He would do, quite literally, anything that he wished – any worries of harming him were unwarranted entirely.

It would have pained most people, being turned onto the side, back arched and leg wrenched out and up with a hand hooked just under the knee, pushing back, pressing back – it was as if Nobunaga-kou was trying to bend him in two and split him in two at the very same time and Mitsuhide couldn’t say that he minded. Already he could feel his muscles spasming and cramping, he was gasping, knuckles turning white as he clawed at the sheets but it was perfect, a perfect little paradise. Everything his Lord needed, right here – and he had been the one to provide it.

There was never much talking when they were like this, just low, deep breathing in his ear, teeth and tongue on his neck, sometimes the sting of a bite or two if Nobunaga-kou was feeling particularly merciful. 

_Is this what you wanted,_ yes, yes, everything.

Mitsuhide’s arms shook once and then gave out, but there was Nobunaga-kou’s arm wrapped tightly around his torso, never once letting go as he fucked up into him with steadily increasing fervor. This was one of the rare occasions that he had decided to undress them both, and Mitsuhide could feel the heat of Nobunaga’s body against his own, every contour and joint, so divine even in mortal form. He drew back and paused and Mitsuhide nearly whined from the withdrawl but then slammed back into him with twice the force, so much so that he forgot how to breathe for the next several seconds as he was gathered closer, his leg pushed further back, the other winding around Nobunaga’s waist as if to keep them locked there forever.

_Oh if only_

Mitsuhide, you have done well, you have pleased me. Oh yes those words were sweet, but this surpassed it all, lovely torment that only his Lord could provide, punishment and reward all in one. A reprimand for his undying neediness. Recognition for his unwavering devotion. Mitsuhide was not one to simply hand out loyalty left and right – it had to be earned, and with what Nobunaga-kou was doing to his _body,_ playing him like a plucked harp oh it was more than enough. 

Nobunaga bent him further with another insistent press of the hand just underneath his lifted knee, his side pressed into the ground as Nobunaga loomed overtop him, _overtaking_ him – he’d welcome it and all the pain that it entailed with open arms take me make me yours forever put me through the fires of a million painful deaths I’ll bear it all. Mitsuhide could feel the pain shooting through his joints where his limbs were being twisted into positions they weren’t meant to be in, he throat burned, his eyes stung, and through all this it wasn’t nearly enough.

Destroy me that’s what I’m good for.

And as Nobunaga’s movements grew harsher, more erratic by the second, as his Lord finally brought himself to completion inside of Mitsuhide, he counted himself another triumph. Until the end of time he would not fail Nobunaga-kou, forever he would travel by his side, for there was _no_ one else who could tend to each and every one of these needs, there was no one as willing to accommodate. 

Already Mitsuhide could feel Nobunaga’s crushing weight against his body as he wrapped an arm around his narrow waist, now that he’d been temporarily sated. It was, perhaps, the tamest that Mitsuhide had seen Nobunaga-kou in a long time. And this, Mitsuhide knew, was why he would never find himself without use, he would _never_ fail, never, never, like a mantra.

It was easier to try and reassure himself of that than it was to confront the alternative.


End file.
